


getting washed away in you

by polarkai



Category: Booksmart (2019)
Genre: F/F, Friends With Benefits, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23791516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polarkai/pseuds/polarkai
Summary: The thought plants itself in her brain on Monday.They’re in the middle of Amy trying valiantly to quiz her for a test coming up, colored flashcards scattered across her bed and the textbook half-open at Hope’s feet, when she blurts out, “Have you ever used a strap-on?”
Relationships: Amy/Hope (Booksmart)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 230





	getting washed away in you

**Author's Note:**

> i've been wanting to write strap-on smut for these two for a while and this is my excuse so i hope y'all like it.  
> also just a note that nick's party happens about 2-3 months before graduation in this.

It starts like this: 

Hope is wandering through the library she hasn’t been to in years, scanning the aisles of bookshelves for the awkward, fumbling redhead she met and maybe-sort-of almost hooked up with at Nick’s party, because hell if she knows what went on in fucking 15th century Europe. And somewhere between the stacks of Fantasy and YA novels, she catches sight of auburn hair and a yellow jacket. _Finally._

“Hey! I need your help.” 

Amy startles from her spot resting in one of the big leather couches in the library, nearly toppling over. Beside her, Mary or Margaret or whatever-her-name-is eyes Hope suspiciously over the top of her book, ever so subtle. 

“You― you need my help?” Amy asks, glancing around as if Hope is staring down at anyone else. “What for?” 

Hope can only roll her eyes. “I’m failing Fine’s class. So I need help, and you’re one of the smartest in there, so…” 

“She’s not, actually!” Mary-or-Margaret pipes up, lowering the book from in front of her face, “I am. She’s good at math and science, but sucks at history.” 

“Hey!” Amy huffs, offended. “I am not!” Then, with her voice barely lowered like Hope doesn’t have fucking ears, “Molly, don’t make me look stupid in front of―” 

“So will you do it or not?” she interjects, because she doesn’t have time for this. Amy’s had a crush on her since primary, whatever, it’s common knowledge to her by now, and she doesn’t really care. All she needs is a passing grade in Fine’s class in order to graduate in two months. 

Amy stammers out a, “Y-yeah, I guess,” and Hope slaps a piece of paper in her hand before she can change her mind. 

“Great, call me when you finish… whatever you’re doing.” 

It’s only when she’s halfway down the aisle that Amy calls out, “Wait!” 

She whirls around on her heel, eyebrow cocked. She hesitates when she sees the way Amy’s blushing, eyes flitting nervously between her and her friend ― Molly, Hope remembers now. 

She bites her tongue and tries not to think about how adorable it is that she makes Amy blush so easily. She’s cute, yeah, and Hope likes her just fine, but she’s not going to fall into that shit again. Not after last time, when she ended up washing vomit chunks out of her hair in the shower. 

“We were just about to leave,” Amy’s saying once she tunes back in, seeming to pointedly ignore the way Molly looks at her incredulously. “I can just come over now?” 

“Amy, we weren’t―” Molly goes to say, but Amy shuts her up with a whispered word that, this time, Hope can’t hear. Somehow, it’s enough to have Molly snapping her mouth shut, glancing at Hope and then back at Amy before chirping, “Yep, we were just leaving!” 

Hope blinks. “Right,” she drawls, slowly, adjusting her bag on her shoulder as she watches Amy fumble to gather her things and catch up to where she’s standing. “Your place, though, not mine.” 

When Amy freezes for a second, Hope turns to look at her with a frown, “Or we could stay here?” 

“No!” Amy hurries to say as they start walking again. “No, it’s just― my parents are kind of― weird with me bringing girls over.” 

That makes Hope smirk, amusement taking over any previous annoyance she might’ve felt. “You bring a lot of girls over, huh, Amy?” she prods, poking the redhead in the stomach and making her jump away from her touch. If possible, it makes Amy blush even harder, the red spreading down her neck and disappearing behind the neckline of her shirt. 

“That’s not what I meant,” she defends herself, but Hope just whistles, unlocking her car from across the parking lot. 

“Sure it isn’t, kid,” she hums, blatantly choosing to pretend like she can’t see the look Amy is giving her. 

“It’s not!” 

God, this is fun, riling her up like this. Just like that night in Nick’s bathroom, when she’d called her Molly’s sidekick bitch. She holds her hands up in faux-surrender as she climbs into the car, Amy sliding into the passenger seat. “Hey, I believe you.” 

“No, you don’t,” Amy argues, insistent, and Hope just bites at her bottom lip to stifle the chuckle that would give her away. “It’s seriously not what I meant!” 

“Alright!” Hope puts the car in reverse and backs out of the parking spot. “I’m sure.” 

By the time they get back to Amy’s place, reminiscent of the day Hope gave her abandoned underwear back right there on the front porch, Amy’s pouting in the passenger seat, arms crossed as she stares out the window. 

“You’re not going to do that the whole time, right?” Hope checks, pulling into the driveway. “‘Cause I can’t learn history when you’re pouting like that.” 

Amy glares at her, affronted. “I’m not pouting.”

“You’re pouting,” Hope nods. She climbs out of the car, Amy still sitting in the passenger seat, unmoving. “Seriously?” 

“Yeah, seriously,” Amy snaps, and something ignites in Hope, something like arousal at her tone. She purses her lips, brows raised. “You can’t just ask me for a favor and then make fun of me.” 

Make fun of her? Was that what Hope was doing? To her, it seemed like a back-and-forth bickering, akin to like, friends or something. “I wasn’t making fun of you.” 

“You were,” Amy argues, and Hope rolls her eyes, yanking the car door open. 

“No, I wasn’t,” she insists, reaching over Amy’s lap to unbuckle her seat belt for her, ignoring the squealed hey! as she does so. “I was teasing you. That’s different. Now are we going to do this or not?” 

Amy hesitates, not looking at her. For a brief, and admittedly terrifying moment, Hope is almost sure that she’s going to say no and kick her off the property to go somewhere else to study. But instead, she sighs and begrudgingly climbs out of the car, dragging her bag up with her. 

“There you go,” Hope claps her on the shoulder, leading her towards the front door. Amy shakes herself out of her grip, and her arm falls back to her side. 

Almost as soon as they step inside, they’re bombarded by who Hope assumes to be Amy’s parents, all colorful clothes and bright smiles and an immense lack of understanding of personal space that makes Hope want to cringe. 

“Amy! Who’s this?” 

Beside her, she feels Amy tense, and she feels an undeniable kind of pull to comfort her. “Mom, Dad, this is Hope. She’s a friend.” Emphasis on _friend,_ Hope notes. “I’m helping her study, okay? Love you guys, bye!” 

And then she’s practically dragging Hope up the staircase, just barely managing not to trip over herself in her haste to get away from her parents. “We’re studying,” she reiterates as they enter her bedroom, as if she needs to remind Hope that that’s all they’re doing. Of course it is. Hope doesn’t plan on doing anything else; why would she? 

“Studying,” she echoes anyways, before immediately plopping down on Amy’s bed, sprawling out atop the covers. She half-watches Amy grab her textbook and notes, half-looks around the room to take it in. It’s so undeniably and unapologetically Amy, with a stack of books Hope’s never read before lining the wall and a pile of stuffed animals on her bed. 

Hope’s attention specifically zeroes in on a raggedy looking panda bear, and she points to it with her pen. “What happened to it’s eye?” 

Amy rips through the pages of her textbook without looking up. “We don’t talk about it!” 

Damn. Tough subject. 

“Alright, so do you know where we are in class?” 

Hope just stares at her. Amy glances down at her book and breathes in deeply. “Right. Well, we’re talking about the Protestant Reformation in England right now―”

She lets out a groan. “How did you make that sound even _more_ boring than it already is?”

"You’re the one who asked _me_ for help,” Amy reminds her stoically. 

She sighs and repositions herself so that she’s laying face down on Amy’s bed, her feet on the pillows with her own textbook in front of her. Amy copies her movements, reaching into her bag again for her carefully arranged, labeled folders and a pencil case full of different colored pens and highlighters.

Jesus _Christ._

This is going to be a long night.

* * *

For the next few weeks, it goes like this: 

Hope goes to Amy’s house to study. Gets heckled by her parents, gets a haf-suspicious, half-excited side eye from Amy’s best friend, and gets quizzed by Amy as she zones out and focuses on other things, like the way Amy holds her pen between her teeth when she’s concentrating. 

It’s, quite frankly, fucking annoying, if you ask Hope. 

She’s not supposed to be doing this again, getting so hung up on this girl. Just because they had one almost-hookup at a party, her mind thinks it’s okay to supply her with images of her pushing Amy down onto the bed and making her moan? It’s bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit.

“You’re not even listening to me.” 

Hope snaps her head up. “What? No, I’m listening.” 

Amy raises an eyebrow, and, okay, hot. How can a girl be both cute and hot at the same time? Hope can only wonder. “Yeah? What’d I just say?” 

Hope purses her lips. She glances down at her book; had Amy said something about Voltaire? Or Kepler? Eventually, she settles on, “Peter the Great?” 

Amy rolls her eyes. “No. We’re talking about Henry the Eighth.” 

Right. The guy who divorced and killed all his wives. She clicks her tongue and nods, fingering the corner of the page idly, and Amy sighs. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

It’s not a question, but a statement, as Amy sits up and crosses her arms. She looks angry, angrier than she did that night in the bathroom ― and, fuck, why can’t she stop thinking of that stupid night? ― and Hope suddenly feels like she should stop being an ass. “Alright, I’m sorry. I’m just distracted.” 

Amy throws her arms up. “By what?” 

“By you,” she answers, her mouth forming the words almost of its own accord. “You’re just so…” 

“Distracting?” Amy finishes. She’s not blushing this time, but she has the same kind of lost, doe-eyed look she had right before she kissed Hope for the first time. Fuck, it drives her crazy. 

She smirks, tapping her pen against the textbook. “Yeah, exactly.” 

Why is she doing this? She’s not supposed to― _No._ Fuck what she 'isn't supposed to do’. When has she ever _not_ done what she isn't supposed to, anyways? So, she bites the bullet and asks, “Want to try again?” 

Amy’s eyes nearly bulge out of her head at the question. “What?” she stammers, and Hope just shrugs. “You mean, like…” 

She trails off, but Hope already knows what she was going to say. “Yeah,” she confirms with a nod. She’s already closing her textbook, discarding the notes in front of her and sitting up on Amy’s bed. “But only if you’re―”

She doesn’t get to finish before Amy’s up off the floor and pressing their lips together, so abrupt and without warning, just like the first time. Immediately, Hope melts into it, bringing her hand up to curl around the back of Amy’s neck and pull her closer. Amy’s arms go around her shoulders, climbing into Hope’s lap without any hesitation, their thighs pressing together. 

Kissing Amy again feels like something’s coming together inside of her. So, she didn’t hold out as long as she thought she would. But, well― Hope guesses it was always going to end up like this again. 

This next time, Amy finds the right hole, to say the least. And by the end of the week, they barely get any studying done. 

Somehow, this shit just keeps happening between them, no matter how hard they try to actually sit down and study. Hope can’t exactly complain, though, not with the way Amy’s mouth is warm and compliant against her own, pressing her down into the bed. 

Shit. She’s always been a goner. 

* * *

She and Amy settle into a kind of routine, one where they study and then fuck, or sometimes vise versa. But either way, Amy makes sure to always teach Hope something, even if it’s just a few flashcards, because _you asked me for help for a reason, Hope, not just for sex._

Which, yeah, that’s… true. But that doesn’t mean Hope has to enjoy that part of the evening. She’d much rather spend the whole night fucking Amy, if she had any say in it.

* * *

The thought plants itself in her brain on Monday. 

It plants itself in her brain on Monday, but somehow, she manages to refrain from bringing it up to Amy until Wednesday, when they meet up for their tutoring session in Amy’s bedroom.

They’re in the middle of Amy trying valiantly to quiz her for a test coming up, colored flashcards scattered across her bed and the textbook half-open at Hope’s feet, when she blurts out, “Have you ever used a strap-on?” 

Amy chokes on her next words, head snapping up to glare at Hope from her spot beside her on the bed. “What? No! Why?” 

Hope hums in response, kicking her feet and sitting up against Amy’s pillows. “Would you like to?” she asks, fingers trailing absently along Amy’s thigh, tracing random lines on her skin. 

“Do you― have you… used one?” Amy asks instead of answering her question. Hope glances up to see her pursing her lips, blatantly trying to seem nonchalant with the way she asks. Hope finds it fucking adorable. 

“I have,” she answers truthfully. “Once or twice. It’s fun. We should try it.” 

Of course, if Amy were to say no, she’d leave it alone accordingly. But Amy seems to perk up a bit at the suggestion, clearing her throat and shifting slightly, like the proposition turns her on. Does it? Is she wet right now, thinking about it? 

Hope smirks, recognizing the way Amy’s eyes glaze over ever-so-subtly. “You’re turned on,” she observes, amused, as Amy frowns. 

“What? No, I just―” 

“It’s okay, you know,” Hope cuts her off, holding a hand up. “If it turns you on, I mean. It’s… kind of supposed to. That’s why I asked.” 

Amy swallows, and Hope can see the movement, her throat bobbing. She scratches the back of her neck, blushing furiously, shifting again. Fuck, how turned on is she? If Hope were to slide her fingers through, would Amy be soaked already?

“I… don’t oppose the idea,” she finally admits, and Hope’s smirk turns into a full-blown grin. “Would I wear it? Or would you―” 

“Either way,” Hope shrugs. “I’ve been a giver and a taker.”

She winks and Amy’s jaw clenches, just barely noticeable if Hope wasn’t already fully focused on her. “Oh.” 

Hope shifts closer, taking in the way Amy’s squeezing her thighs together. She trails her hand up, chuckling under her breath when Amy inhales sharply through her nose. She lets her fingertips glide along a soft inner thigh, thanking to any God that might be above that Amy decided to wear shorts today. 

“Fuck, just kiss me,” Amy groans, and then Hope is being pulled down, their lips brushing against each other gently at first, then more persistent as they both melt into it. 

Then, Amy grabs onto her waist and tugs her closer, into her lap, and Hope lets out a surprised noise that she’ll never admit to making as she fits between Amy’s legs, pressing down. 

“We’re supposed to be studying,” she teases against Amy’s mouth, but the redhead clearly doesn’t give a shit, because she just shakes her head and kisses Hope again, harder this time, more teeth and tongue than anything else. 

There’s a fire enveloping her, her whole body warm as she starts to grind down against Amy’s thigh, breaking the kiss for a brief moment to gasp as it sends heat straight down, the friction already getting to her. 

God, since when has she gotten so weak for this girl? 

Amy gasps into the kiss and Hope knows she can feel it, how she’s just dying for her. She grinds down a few more times and moans into Amy’s mouth but, while it’s always about both of them, she wants this to be a little bit more about Amy, so she restrains herself from pushing down any harder against the thigh tensing beneath her. 

Amy’s hands are still in her hair as Hope reaches up and under her top, palming at her chest over her bra, feeling a nipple stiffen under her touch as she brushes her thumb over it. Amy has always been sensitive there, and this is something Hope took note of the first time they fucked.

She moves her mouth to Amy’s neck and kisses up to her ear. “I wish I could use it now,” she whispers― or growls, more like, against the shell of her ear, feeling Amy shudder at her words. “I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” 

Not like she would, technically speaking, but Amy seems to like the way she says it, because she shivers again, eyes clouding over slightly as she gazes up at Hope. “Yeah?” she stutters out, pulling away just for a moment to yank her shirt over her head and throw it somewhere over Hope’s shoulder. 

Her bra is the next to go, and Hope immediately ducks her head down, taking one nipple in her mouth while her fingers flick and pinch the other one, causing Amy to gasp and arch her back, pressing into it. 

Hope hums, feeling the vibration of it against Amy’s chest. Her hand trails down Amy’s body, away from her breast and past the waistband of her jeans, rubbing her over her panties. Hope can already feel how wet she is, and it’s fucking killing her to keep so still, but she wants Amy to want her, to be aching for her completely before she touches her properly.

Amy bites her lip, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Can you―”

_Good enough._

She pushes Amy’s panties to the side and slides two fingers through soaked folds. When she moves her fingers up past Amy’s clit, gathering wetness and circling just close enough to be a tease, Amy bucks into her hand. Perfect.

“Jesus,” Amy exhales into Hope’s ear, and begins clawing at her back. She’s so desperate already, and it makes Hope smirk against Amy’s salty skin. Her fingers push down a little harder and she presses against Amy’s clit with just enough pressure to make her gasp, hips bucking deliciously into her touch again.

Amy’s always so responsive, like she’s been waiting forever to have Hope’s fingers on her, to have Hope’s lips pressing kisses to the side of her neck. For Hope, dizziness fills her head; it’s intoxicating being this close, being in control like this, having Amy slowly come undone under her touch.

It always feels incredible too, how warm and wet Amy is, and Hope takes a few moments to just feel her before she knows that she’s being an ass, making Amy wait like this. Something Amy, the evidently not-so-quiet girl Hope fell for in the bathroom at Nick’s party, voices aloud to her with an impatient, “Come on.” 

She watches her hand as she starts to move, sees her fingers disappear inside Amy and thinks back to the strap on, imagines it thrusting in and out of Amy as she fucks her open.

“Shit, Hope,” Amy sighs, and Hope knows that that means harder. So she complies, starts thrusting into Amy with renewed enthusiasm, scissoring and curling her fingers up as Amy presses into her.

“You want my cock in you like this?” Hope asks her, nipping against Amy’s collarbone as she feels warm, sticky wetness spill over her fingers. It’s not exactly new to her, this dirty talk thing, but with Amy it is, so she waits with bated breath to see how she reacts as she does it more and more.

But Amy― as quiet and put together as she is at school most of the time, is loud now, moaning out a strangled “yes,” as Hope drags her fingertips down Amy’s front wall, pressing against that spot that always has Amy unraveling for her. 

It doesn’t take her long to come undone completely by that point, clutching onto Hope’s upper back and burying her face in her shoulder. She’s trembling, pressing her body against Hope’s as she rides through the aftershocks, lips parted and her breaths coming out in short, hot puffs against Hope’s skin. 

Needless to say, they don’t go back to doing school work after that.

* * *

It’s three weeks into their ‘studying’ arrangement that Hope notices Amy has never smoked weed. 

It’s not like she’s surprised about this, all things considering. Until Nick’s party, she’d only ever known Amy as the girl who was way too involved in school and not at all involved in… other activities, per say. Not to mention how fucking tightly-wound she can be sometimes, like she just needs to loosen the hell up in Hope’s opinion. 

But the thing is: Amy not only refuses to smoke weed, but she seems to thoroughly and unconditionally hate it, and Hope knows this because Hope is observant. Not that Amy hides it all that well, anyways. 

“What’s that for?” she asks when Hope picks her up from the library one day, gesturing vaguely to the disgusted expression Amy is making as she rolls up her blunt, almost perfect. Amy glances up at her, and when their eyes meet, she immediately glances back down. 

God, she’s so awkward sometimes. As if they haven’t literally fucked already. 

“I just don’t understand why you do it,” she shrugs, trying and failing to wipe the expression off her face. Hope raises an eyebrow and lights up, blowing the smoke out and to the side, away from Amy’s face. 

“It calms me down,” Hope says, but Amy shoots her a look. It’s not a lie. It does calm her down, and it also gets her high, which― yeah, okay, is great. “What do you have against it?” 

Amy bites her lip. “I don’t know. I’ve just never… done it.” 

Hope chuckles affectionately, rolling her eyes as she takes another hit. A sense of euphoria immediately rushes over her as she inhales. “You don’t do weed,” she laughs. “Besides, you can’t hate something you’ve never tried. Here.” 

She holds out the blunt for Amy to take, but Amy purses her lips, shifting slightly. Hope smiles encouragingly. “You don’t have to do it, you know,” she reminds her with a shrug, hand slowly retreating. “More for me, anyways.” 

Amy shakes her head. “No, no, I mean― I’ll try it. Just once.” 

Hope smiles again. “There you go,” she cheers on, holding it out. Amy takes it hesitantly, but there’s something like excitement that seems to slip out as she raises the blunt to her lips, inhaling.

For a few seconds, she seems to handle it fairly well, before she ultimately dissolves into a coughing fit, the smoke rushing out of her mouth as she hands the blunt back. Hope laughs again, patting her back. “You alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Amy’s voice is rough, but she manages to stop coughing, clearing her throat a few times for good measure. Then she blinks, sitting up straighter. “Wow. That… isn’t bad, actually.” 

Hope smirks. “See? It doesn’t hurt to try new things.” 

For a moment, Amy is quiet, contemplative. Hope waits patiently for her to speak. “I think… I want to do that thing soon.” 

_The thing,_ referring to using the strap-on, Hope knows. “Yeah?” she asks. “You sure?” 

Amy nods, resolute. “Yeah. Like, soon.” 

Hope just tilts her head, exhaling smoke through her nose. “Well then, soon it is.”

 _Soon_ ends up meaning the next day, right after they get out of school. The bell rings and they meet each other in the rush of students desperate to leave the damn place, Amy’s smile too big and her eyes nervous. 

“And you’re fine with this?” Hope makes sure as she climbs into the passenger seat of Amy’s car. It’s a lot cleaner than hers, no water bottles or energy drink cans littering the floorboard, no cup-holder turned ash-tray, no long crack on the windshield. 

“Yes,” Amy insists, turning to look at her as they pull out of the parking lot. “Please stop asking me that. I want this.” 

_I want this._ Hope doesn’t know why her body immediately reacts to those three words, but it does, and she bites her lip as she looks out the window instead of internally tracing the lines of Amy’s face. 

She’s getting too attached to this. Whatever this is. Except, she can’t really say she minds, now can she? 

“Is this it?” Amy asks a few minutes later, the first thing that’s been said the whole ride there. They come to a grinding stop in front of the address Hope had given her, right into the parking lot of a small shopping center. 

The sex toy shop sits in front of them, all chipped paint and flickering neon signs, squeezed in between a Starbucks and a hair salon, of all places.

Amy hesitates. “They won’t… think we’re weird for going in?” 

Hope looks at her, and she must not be able to school her expression well enough or fast enough, because Amy frowns again, the same kind of pout she had at the library all those weeks ago that makes Hope all jittery and warm. 

“Amy, they _work_ here, they can’t exactly judge us.” She rolls her eyes, then ponders for a moment, “Besides, I’m sure they’ve had to sell to worse people.” 

Amy bites at her lip, thinking, and then she’s yanking on the handle of the car door and stumbling out, all gangly limbs and an awkward stride towards the door. Hope shakes her head as she follows behind her. 

There’s not exactly any subtle way to do this, Hope thinks, as they wander through aisles upon aisles of sex toys. They pass a row of vibrators, then some anal plugs of varying sizes, which makes Amy grimace for a second before she receives a pointed look from the woman examining them. 

“Sorry,” she murmurs under her breath, and Hope can only laugh, pushing her towards where they need to be. 

There are a lot of toys that catch Hope’s eye throughout the shop, but she let’s Amy pick it out, because she’s the one who’s never done this sort of thing before, and she’s the one who’s going to be taking it. She scans the different packages, eyes skimming the back of the box where it lists the type of dildo and it’s features in a tiny, fine white print. 

“What about this one?” 

It’s a beginners one, Hope realizes when Amy holds it up for her to look at. A fleshy tan color, fairly average in size, not too big or too small, with just the right amount of thickness and a couple ridges. 

“You want it?” she asks, and Amy nods with pink-tinted cheeks, so Hope snatches it out of her hands and marches to the cashier. 

They don’t get to use the toy for a few days after buying it, though. Hope is scheduled for work five out of the seven days of the week, and Amy is too busy studying for her AP classes’ quickly approaching finals to have any free time to be alone together.

The toy sits untouched, buried in Hope’s dresser beneath a bunch of socks, and it almost taunts her. Yells at her to take it out, to drive over to Amy’s house immediately and use it on her until she can’t feel her legs any longer.

But, no. Hope isn’t a desperate person, even if she is a bit impatient. She’s not going to selfishly interrupt Amy’s studying just for a fuck, and she sure as hell isn’t going to look like she’s eagerly begging for it either. 

That is, until Amy sends her one single text almost a full week later. 

**_Come over. Bring the thing please?_ **

The _thing_. She still can’t fucking call it what it is, like she’s a goddamn prude who’s never fucked before, even though Hope has fucked her and been fucked by her on multiple occasions by now. 

How the fuck is it only making Hope like her more? 

It doesn’t take her long to type out a reply with one hand, the other hand busy yanking a pair of pants on as she makes her way to the door. **_On my way ;)_ **

The drive to Amy’s house from her own is approximately twenty minutes.

Hope gets there in ten. 

* * *

She’s got her leg between Amy’s, pushing her thigh into her as Amy grinds down on it. There’s something about Amy’s hands in her hair that makes Hope feel like they’re a bit wild together, like she’s two seconds away from ripping some out, and it only makes her want Amy to tug it a bit harder.

She hadn’t ever thought that there could be this almost _feral_ thing between them sometimes. 

Amy’s starting to whimper into Hope’s mouth, grinding a little more roughly and rotating her hips, so when Hope pulls away a little, she makes a small noise of objection before seeming to remember what they’re really here for. 

“I’ll be right back,” she whispers against Amy’s lips, before gently removing herself from under Amy’s body. It doesn’t take her long to fit the leather harness in place and slip the dildo inside, and when she looks up, Amy’s staring at her with lust-filled eyes.

She swallows past a suddenly dry throat at the look. “Like what you see?” she teases, and Amy can just nod dumbly. “Why don’t you show me how much, then?” 

It’s somewhat of a bold question, one that Amy seems to take in for a few moments before she’s crawling across the bed towards her, tongue darting out to wet her lips. 

She holds onto Hope’s thighs, fingertips digging in, as she licks the tip of the cock at first, and― God, this girl is going to be the fucking _death_ of her. She can’t even feel it except for the way the base brushes up against her clit, but there’s a look on Amy’s face that’s telling Hope that she’s going to enjoy this as much as Amy will.

“You’re gonna drive me insane,” she groans, tilting her head back slightly.

Amy takes more of it into her mouth then, and Hope feels like a complete and utter fuckboy now, because she’s got her hands in Amy’s hair as she’s sucking on the cock with more enthusiasm than Hope ever anticipated she’d have.

She’s watching it disappear into Amy’s mouth, lips perfect and wet and her tongue sliding up the underside of it before she takes the head back in her mouth, and it’s then that Hope knows that she actually can’t wait to fuck Amy with it. 

“How― shit, how’d you get so good at this?” she asks, because Amy is a lesbian who, before her, has never experienced with sex toys and thought Hope’s _asshole_ was her vagina, and there’s no way she just knows how to drive Hope insane with the mere sight of this.

She almost regrets asking the question though, because Amy’s pulling away with a string of saliva still hanging from her lips, smiling sheepishly. “Porn?” she answers, before wrapping her lips back around the tip. 

Hope nearly scoffs. _Porn._ Because of course Amy would watch porn to learn and prepare for something like this. Did she take fucking color-coded _notes_ , too? Hope wouldn’t doubt it.

She doesn’t even respond. Instead, she’s trying to stop from thrusting the dildo into Amy’s mouth because, really, the sensation won’t do anything for her and she doubts that Amy will appreciate it in the slightest.

“Fuck, kid,” Hope breathes out as Amy pulls away with a quick wipe to her mouth, grinning and raising herself up on her heels to kiss her. They don’t break it as Hope pushes Amy slowly down onto her back, mindful of the new appenage between her legs, and her fingers find Amy’s clit in no time.

She’s wet enough to not need any lube, her arousal coating Hope’s fingertips as she slides them through, teasing the both of them. Then she brings them up, presses them against her lips and sighs as she tastes Amy on her tongue, opening her eyes to see Amy practically gawking at her. 

“That was― hot,” Amy manages, voice stuttering a bit. 

“You ready?” Hope asks, but Amy’s too busy staring at her still, so she nudges her to get her attention, smirking in amusement. “Ready?” she repeats, softer this time. 

Amy nods and chews on her lip nervously at the same time, which Hope knows means that it’s okay but she’s still a bit scared.

Well, fuck it. There’s only one way to overcome fear, right?

They share a look and then Amy’s closing her eyes as she guides the dildo to her entrance, the head brushing up against her clit and making her moan. Hope doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, and all she can hear is Amy’s breathing and the wet sound of the cock slipping inside her, inch by inch.

And then, slowly, Hope pushes her hips up so it slides further into Amy, and it’s almost _agonizingly_ slow for her; there’s always something about wearing a strap-on that desperately makes her want to move her hips faster. She aches to grab at Amy’s hips, flip them over, and take her hard and fast. But she knows Amy’s not used to that, knows that it needs to be slow for now. Later, she’ll be able to do that, but right now, she has to be patient. 

If only she were better at that sort of thing. 

It takes a while, with Amy looking like she’s forgotten how to breathe, cheeks tinted pink and puffed out, but finally, she sinks down with a sharp gasp and takes the whole thing, letting out a deep moan as Hope bottoms out inside her.

She’s never looked more fucking beautiful, Hope thinks, as her eyes squeeze tightly together and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, letting out a trembling breath. 

“Oh,” she says, almost in surprise, like she’s trying a new food or something and is shocked with how much she’s enjoying it.

“You okay?” Hope checks, despite not even really needing to. It’s clear that Amy is okay, more than okay, as she adjusts to the sudden fullness inside of her. 

“Yeah,” Amy sighs out, reaching up to brush a strand of damp hair out of her eyes. The same hand comes down to press against Hope’s chest for balance, and then she starts to rock forward, letting out a low, high-pitched moan that sends shockwaves straight to Hope’s core. 

“Oh God,” Amy manages, tipping her head back, throat bobbing with each hard swallow.

Hope’s eyes trail from her neck down to the tiny freckles scattered across her pale chest, and then down further, where she can just make out the base of the cock every time Amy raises her hips off it before sinking back down with a whimper.

And it’s a good rhythm that Amy’s maintaining, rocking back and forth, and it must be working for her pretty well because her head falls forward again, eyes flying open to meet Hope’s. 

She groans, face scrunching up in something akin to both concentration and pleasure as she moves her hips experimentally, in such a way that makes the base rub against Hope’s clit so that she moans herself. Shit. 

Chasing this feeling, the next time Amy sinks down, Hope pushes up and then they’re in it together. This rhythm, this thing that they’re building, is perfectly matched and Amy’s doing such a good job of taking what she wants that Hope just wants to give it to her as best she can.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl, Amy,” she groans, grasping onto Amy’s waist, hands sliding up her torso, feeling her ribs beneath the pads of her thumbs. 

The term good girl comes out almost accidentally, but it seems to do something for Amy with the way the redhead’s got her hands in her hair now, fisting and pulling at it so that it tugs at Hope’s scalp just on the right-side of painful. 

Hope has to keep up. She knows that she can, but she’s close to breaking her stride as she watches Amy’s abdomen clench and unclench, breasts bouncing as she moves almost wildly, whimpers escaping her each time Hope bottoms out. 

It’s just about the hottest thing she could ever imagine. 

Amy’s fucking close ― Hope can tell by how red her face is and the way she’s biting down hard on her bottom lip, so she uses the last bit of energy she has and fucks Amy just a little bit harder, snapping her hips up and holding on tight to Amy’s waist, pulling her down at the same time.

She must be hitting that spot, like _right fucking there_ , and the resulting cry is enough to let Hope know that Amy is about to come incredibly hard with her hands tangled in her hair and sweat lining her collarbone.

“ _Oh―_ don’t stop!” Amy slows down her own movements but Hope continues to thrust up into her, wishing she could feel the way Amy’s undoubtedly clenching around the cock, feel the way she’s dripping around it. 

Amy falls forward against her chest, her face buried in Hope’s shoulder. Hope wraps her arms around Amy’s back and presses her close, still snapping her hips up, Amy’s legs quivering with every hard, deep thrust. 

She slides one hand down, knowing that Amy won’t finish until she’s rubbing at her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to have Amy completely and utterly melt for her.

And then she’s coming, body tensing up in Hope’s arms as she bites down on the skin at Hope’s neck to quell a loud cry, her fists clenching and unclenching in Hope’s hair. Hope keeps thrusting into her, slower now, guiding her through the aftershocks, holding Amy tight. 

The sight and the feeling of the base of the strap-on pressing against her own clit is enough to send Hope hurling towards her own orgasm, gritting her teeth and throwing her head back against the pillows as she claws at Amy’s back. 

When she finally slips out, Amy lets out a sigh at the sudden emptiness, and Hope turns her face to capture her lips in a heated, messy kiss, rubbing up and down her sides. 

“How was that?” 

Amy lurches up, eyes wide. She’s still shaking, her face glowing slightly with sweat, hair a complete mess as she sits up in Hope’s lap. “How was it? Are you kidding me?”

Hope smirks. “Guess you enjoyed it, then?” 

Amy just groans again, burying her face back in Hope’s shoulder, the groan turning into a breathless laugh just a moment later. “Yeah,” she sighs out, “Yeah, I definitely did.”

It takes them a while before they can move, but when they manage it Hope lays down on the bed next to her after slipping out of the harness, the strap-on abandoned on the floor, and waits for Amy to curl up against her.

For a few minutes, neither of them say anything else. Hope can’t tell if she’s tired of hungry, or even a mixture of both, and she’s about to voice this question aloud when Amy beats her to it. 

“I don’t think you’re going to pass that test on Friday,” is what she says, and Hope just lets her head fall back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Nope,” she agrees, and feels the rumble of Amy’s guilty laugh in her chest. “Definitely worth it, though.”


End file.
